Wucheng.
As the granary stronghold for Western Qi's 300,000 troops, this city naturally gathered the highest ranks of power.
There was one Martial Saint, two Mortal Shedding experts, two late-stage Qi Refining cultivators, and above them all—a True Force Realm martial expert named Zou Hu.
A being beyond the Martial Saint.
Even in the cultivation world, a True Force Realm martial expert would be treated as an honored guest in any sect or clan.
At mao hour, the sky was just beginning to pale.
Mo Xuepeng, the Martial Saint overseeing the city, had risen early and climbed the walls to inspect the defenses. There, he saw a female cultivator seated cross-legged upon her flying sword, ethereal and composed.
As he arrived, she too ended her meditation, descending lightly.
"Greetings, Immortal Lady Lan," Mo Xuepeng bowed deeply. "Were you cultivating just now?"
"There is no spiritual qi in the Eastern Divine Continent," Immortal Lady Lan replied coldly. "Cultivation here is impossible. I was merely sitting in quiet rest."
"I see."
Mo Xuepeng nodded, a trace of calculation flickering in his eyes before he spoke again. "Immortal Lady, about my son…"
"Your son's aptitude is average," she interrupted without a hint of warmth, her eyes barely acknowledging him. "To Fallen Leaf Valley, he's neither useful nor worthless."
"Well, that depends on whether Immortal Lady is willing to help," Mo Xuepeng said with a forced smile. "My boy may lack talent, but he's the most filial child you'll ever meet. If you were to accept him as a disciple, my family—no, my entire clan—would never forget your kindness!"
Perhaps she had already intended to agree, or perhaps she simply grew tired of his groveling. At last, Immortal Lady Lan said impatiently, "Fine. After this war is over, I'll give the child a chance. If he passes the test, he can join the sect as a menial disciple. If not, don't bother me again."
"Yes, yes, thank you, Immortal Lady!"
Mo Xuepeng's face lit up with joy. "The war will be over soon! I heard there are 'spirit beasts' roaming Mount Mang. I'll risk my life if I must—to capture one for you to taste!"
"Rumble—"
As they spoke, the entire city trembled.
"What's going on?"
"Could it be… the Earth Dragon turning over?"
The soldiers on the walls murmured nervously.
A sharp cry pierced the air.
"Chirp—!"
A black hawk swooped in from the distance.
"That looks like it's from Immortal Master Han's camp," Mo Xuepeng said, hastily catching the bird and untying the sealed message from its leg. As he scanned it, his pupils constricted violently.
"This is bad! Immortal Master Han says Chen Sanshi is leading his army here! We must protect the granaries at all cost—and he also says Chen Sanshi… has broken through to the True Force Realm! Beyond Martial Saint!"
His shout thundered across the ramparts. "Sound the alarm! Assemble all troops immediately—prepare for battle!"
The horns blared.
All across Wucheng, soldiers surged toward the walls, taking up positions.
Meanwhile, the tremors continued.
None could make sense of it.
"Could it be Chen Sanshi's army causing this?"
"Impossible!" Mo Xuepeng roared. "Immortal Master Han said their numbers are no more than 20,000! We have more men here in the city alone! And Immortal Master Han himself is leading 300,000 troops to strike Great Sheng's main camp at Gengyang Prefecture. All we need to do is hold this city. Soon, Great Sheng's 100,000 soldiers will be wiped out!"
"This is it—this is the final battle! After this victory, we—the defenders of Wucheng—will be Western Qi's greatest heroes! Every man will be promoted three ranks!"
"Brothers! Prepare to fight!"
A true Martial Saint never knew fear.
After the brief shock, Mo Xuepeng regained his composure. As he roused morale, he also dispatched runners to summon Zou Hu, the True Force expert within the city.
Then, gripping his halberd, he took his place atop the battlements.
The earth still shook.
Outside the walls stretched a slanted plain, and there—thousands of soldiers watched in awe as a massive sandstorm rose from miles away, roaring toward them.
Amid the storm's yellow haze, a colossal earthen dragon coiled and rolled. Each twist of its body made the ground quake and the city shudder.
Beneath that storm of sand marched Great Sheng's army, banners of the Hongze Battalion fluttering in the wind. At their center flew a brilliant golden standard—embroidered with one bold character: "Chen."
"Earth Dragon!"
"They… they're controlling the Earth Dragon!"
"The Earth Dragon rises!"
The defenders of Wucheng had never seen such a sight.
"It's a formation," Mo Xuepeng said grimly.
He had heard the rumors—that the White Robe Commander could command the heavens and the earth themselves. He had never expected that the same power, unused on the open plains of the wasteland, would now appear here.
The sand rolled higher.
The sky turned yellow.
The iron ranks of Great Sheng advanced.
As they drew nearer, the tremors intensified. Though the Western Qi soldiers stood firm on solid stone, they felt as if they were adrift on a stormy sea. Waves surged beneath their feet. Any moment now, the tide would overturn and swallow them whole.
"Loose arrows!"
"Drop the stones!"
"Pour the molten metal!"
At Mo Xuepeng's command, every siege weapon sprang to life.
A downpour of arrows rained from above, vanishing into the swirling sand before anyone could tell if they had struck true. Only the crashing thuds of falling boulders gave any hint of impact.
But none of it mattered.
The storm swallowed everything. The enemy's march never faltered.
"Roar—!"
At a distance of four li, the earthen dragon suddenly lunged forward, letting out a deafening roar. The sound shook the very mountains. In a blur of motion, the dragon surged straight for the city gates.
Beneath its head was a single figure.
The White Robe.
Through the storm, he was a streak of light—his white cloak whipping behind him as he carried upon one shoulder a siege hammer seven feet wide and more than ten zhang long. It was a weapon meant to be moved by entire teams of soldiers using a siege cart, yet he bore it alone.
With every step he took, the ground cracked beneath him. Each footfall was heavier than the last. Yet some mysterious power bolstered his strength, letting him advance without slowing—until he and the dragon's head became one, storm and man merging together.
Together, they roared through the sand, striking the iron gate of Wucheng with apocalyptic force.
The city trembled violently.
"Buzz—"
Several cultivators stationed behind the gate hastily cast defensive spells, forming glowing barriers to reinforce it.
That collision looked powerful enough to shake mountains, yet the siege hammer was no mystic weapon. It could not merge with true qi, and its destructive power was limited. It shattered the defensive spell array protecting the gate—but failed to break it open.
Several cultivators pulled out talisman seals and pressed them across the gates and walls, reinforcing the city's barrier with fresh spiritual energy.
"Kill him!"
"The city gate must not fall!"
At the command, squads of death soldiers rappelled down from the ramparts, hooks clanging against the stone as they descended.
The first strike hadn't breached the gate.
Chen Sanshi did not persist blindly. Instead, he swung the colossal hammer once more, stirring a storm of sand and earth that surged like a rolling yellow tidal wave. The blow swept across the half-descended Western Qi soldiers, crushing them midair into pulp and blood.
At the same moment, one after another, cultivators descended from above. Each held weapons glowing with multicolored spiritual light—five or six mystic artifacts, each radiating power through the storm. Among them were two late-stage Qi Refining cultivators.
One male, one female.
The man held a dark-green battle flag, while the woman wielded a flying sword.
"Rumble—!"
Below, the small figure in white robes gripped his "sky pillar" and spun it mid-stride, sweeping up gales of yellow sand that blotted out the heavens. The air tore with sound as he charged.
"Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!"
The man's flag flared to life, releasing a swarm of wind blades—each condensed from pure mana. They howled through the air like scythes, slicing down in waves. Every blade shattered a section of the falling hammer, and before the weapon could strike, the ten-zhang-long siege pillar exploded into splinters. Wood shards mixed with sand, forming a blinding storm of debris.
Then, a streak of cold silver light flashed through the chaos.
The next instant, a silver dragon roared into existence.
The male cultivator's face twisted as he roared in defiance. His Azure Flood Flag burst with radiance, forming a blue flood dragon that lunged to meet the silver one. The two dragons clashed in midair—energy waves rippling outward in shockwaves that shook the city walls.
They wrestled for only two breaths before the azure dragon faltered, crushed and swallowed whole by the silver beast.
The man tried to flee. But it was already too late.
The silver dragon pierced through his chest.
He died instantly, his body falling limp from the sky.
Meanwhile, Immortal Lady Lan did not stand idle. Her flying sword split into a shower of blades, turning into a rain of swords that converged from every direction. As they merged, they formed a glowing white lotus bloom, radiating deadly light.
But Chen Sanshi had already moved.
After impaling the previous foe with his Dragon Gall Silver Spear, he twisted his weapon midair, channeling qi through its shaft. Like a swimming dragon, it weaved through the storm and smashed directly into the lotus formation.
The lotus shattered.
The flying swords scattered back into one, spiraling out of control before Immortal Lady Lan recalled it with a flick of her wrist.
Her sneak attack failed. Panic flashed across her face. She turned to retreat into the city—
"Bang!"
Chen Sanshi charged forward like a storm. Reaching the base of the wall, he stamped one foot down, leaving a deep crater beneath him before launching himself upward.
He soared dozens of zhang into the air—higher than the city walls themselves.
Amid the storm, the White Robe gazed down upon all below.
On the ramparts, countless Western Qi soldiers stared upward in terror. Instinctively, they raised shields, spears, halberds, and swords, bracing against what they felt coming.
From the swirling yellow dust above, a blinding silver light erupted.
Then—
The white-robed figure's long spear descended like a celestial dragon crashing to earth!
A thunderous roar shook the battlefield. Flesh and armor burst apart. In an instant, dozens of men were torn to pieces, blood and limbs raining down the wall.
A gaping hole ripped open in the battlements.
While the soldiers scrambled, Immortal Lady Lan had reformed her mana, sending her flying sword back into the air.
This time, it was completely overwhelmed. The silver spear met it mid-flight, sending it spinning helplessly into the dirt. The blade quivered as it sank several feet into the ground.
The silver dragon charged on, unstoppable, roaring through the storm.
Nearby, Mo Xuepeng gripped his halberd, wanting to help—but his instincts screamed that he was far too weak to intervene in a battle of this level.
Just as the silver dragon opened its maw to devour Immortal Lady Lan, golden light burst forth before her.
A massive iron fist struck from the side.
The hand looked like a forged weapon—its skin dark as bark, and around the wrist was a brilliant golden ring inscribed with glowing violet runes. Power surged outward in waves, rippling the air as the fist met the dragon head-on.
"Clang—!"
The sharp metallic sound reverberated through the battlefield.
The silver dragon was thrown back violently.
Chen Sanshi felt as if a mountain had crashed down upon him. The difference in strength was vast. Even his Vajra Body, ignited to its peak, could not withstand the impact. He was hurled backward, slamming into the ground below the wall, one knee dropping into the dirt as the storm swirled around him.
"Are you all right, husband?"
Immortal Lady Lan exhaled shakily.
The man beside her—Zou Hu, the True Force Realm martial expert—gave a curt nod. They were dao partners, bound by both cultivation and life.
Zou Hu stepped to the wall's edge. Arrows and boulders flew through the air, but none dared touch him. His eyes locked on the white-robed man below.
"Brother," his voice rolled across the battlefield like thunder, "why use true qi instead of true force? Do you look down on me?"
He had rushed here after hearing the alarm that the enemy commander had broken through to True Force. Yet in their brief clash, he could feel clearly—Chen Sanshi was still using true qi, not true force.
The difference of a single character meant a chasm of power.
A cultivator might not notice it, but a martial expert certainly would.
Chen Sanshi gave no answer.
Amid the raging fire and storm, flames coiled around his spear. He leapt once more, soaring through the blaze and mounting the city wall again.
Zou Hu narrowed his eyes. The fire was ordinary—it was not part of any Five Elemental Breathing Method. Still, he didn't underestimate it.
Activating his Metal Breathing Method, all Eight Divine Vistas of his upper body opened at once. True qi within him converted into true force, flooding into his arm as his killing intent surged. When the power reached its peak, he drove his fist forward.
"Boom!"
The blow struck like thunder.
Chen Sanshi was sent hurtling backward again, crashing down the wall into the dust below.
This time, Zou Hu was certain.
It was ordinary flame.
And the qi was merely that—true qi, not true force.
Though powerful beyond measure, it was still confined within the limits of the Mortal Shedding Realm. Most likely, the man was still in the process of opening his next Divine Vista.
'Bluffing,' Zou Hu thought.
He was a pure warrior, not one for schemes—but even he knew when intelligence reports were wrong, they needed correction.
"Send word," he barked. "Tell Han Xiang—Chen Sanshi is no True Force expert! He's still stuck at the Mortal Shedding Realm—he hasn't broken through!"
"Yes, sir!"
Mo Xuepeng hurried to relay the order.
Then Zou Hu turned his gaze back down.
"Quite the nerve you have," he growled.
Under the Metal Breathing Method, the killing intent around Zou Hu surged higher and higher. His thick, dragon-like arms trembled with power, and the Heavenly Vajra Rings on his wrists hummed sharply.
"A mere Mortal Shedding cultivator dares to attack Wucheng? You really think too little of me, Zou Hu!"
Duzhiao Army Main Camp – Gengyang Prefecture.
While the battle raged at Wucheng, the 300,000-strong Western Qi army had already arrived here, preparing to strike deep into enemy territory. Both sides were short on supplies—whoever won this next fight would decide the war.
"Siege forward!"
"Charge!"
The Western Qi army advanced like a dark tidal wave. Siege towers rolled ahead, shield soldiers marched close behind, and catapults hurled fireballs that smashed into the city walls one after another.
Above the battlefield, the cultivator Zhu Gui spoke loudly, "Senior Brother Han, I'm certain Chen Sanshi's surprise attack on Wucheng means he took all the high-level cultivators with him. At most, there's one perfection-stage cultivator left behind. If you and I strike together, we can kill him instantly—this city will fall in a blink!"
Han Xiang narrowed his eyes, calm and composed as always. He gazed toward the city walls where Wang Jun stood and said, "A soldier must act with caution, not assumption. Take a few of our sect brothers and probe first. If it's truly just Wang Jun alone, I will act."
"Understood!"
Zhu Gui stood atop a giant maple leaf that floated in midair, the Frostbite Blade in his hand glinting coldly. He muttered a spell, and in a flash, his speed skyrocketed—he crossed the sky in the blink of an eye, descending upon the wall with his icy blade cutting straight down.
Wang Jun had been ready. His flying sword blazed to life, intercepting the descending blade. The two weapons clashed in midair, qi and mana colliding invisibly—neither side gaining the upper hand.
Then suddenly, a sword light flashed from the shadows—Qu Yuanxiang ambushed from behind, his own flying sword streaking through the air to kill.
"You're here too?!" Zhu Gui frowned sharply and crushed a talisman, summoning an ice wall beside him.
The flying sword struck. The ice wall shattered.
But Zhu Gui had already retreated, widening the distance between them.
Wang Jun was about to pursue when a streak of sword qi slashed down from the sky.
Han Xiang had joined the fray.
Suspended in the air, his gaze was solemn as he faced both Wang Jun and Qu Yuanxiang. "So, the two of you stayed behind on purpose. You knew I would lead an army here. But aren't you worried? What if Chen Sanshi fails to take Wucheng? If I ignored this place and turned to reinforce the city instead, wouldn't you both be crushed first?"
"Enough talking!"
Wang Jun roared and rushed forward, casting another spell.
Han Xiang and Zhu Gui didn't meet their attacks head-on. Instead, they danced through the air, keeping their distance.
Their plan was simple—by keeping all top-tier combatants occupied, the Western Qi army's overwhelming siege strength would dominate. It was the most efficient and strategic choice. Direct combat between evenly matched experts risked heavy losses for little gain.
All they needed was time—to delay and let the army slowly take Gengyang Prefecture.
"Damn it!"
Wang Jun felt like a kite tugged by invisible strings, endlessly circling without ever landing a solid blow. He could only watch as more breaches opened along the city wall, powerless to intervene.
This desperate stalemate dragged on for half an hour.
Then, a shout rose from the Western Qi army below.
"Immortal Master Han!"
"A message from Immortal Master Zou of Wucheng! He says Chen Sanshi has not broken through to the True Force Realm—he's still only in the Mortal Shedding stage! Everything before was just a bluff!"
"What?"
Han Xiang froze for a heartbeat.
He quickly cast several talismans, forcing Wang Jun back and widening the gap. Thoughts raced through his mind.
So—Chen Sanshi led his troops to Wucheng, but didn't bring a single perfection-stage expert?
He intended to fight against a True Force expert with just Mortal Shedding strength?
Even if Chen Sanshi was a prodigy who could cross realms…
How could he dare this?!
Did he not fear that Han Xiang would choose not to attack Gengyang Prefecture, but instead march to reinforce Wucheng?
If that happened—Chen Sanshi would be walking straight to his death!
'A reckless fool,' Han Xiang thought coldly.
He had believed the man in white was a brilliant strategist—a player of the highest caliber on this great board of war.
But now, he saw the truth.
The White Robe wasn't a chessmaster.
He was just a gambler, courting death.
And now that his true strength was exposed—his time was up.
Han Xiang's eyes gleamed coldly.
He was stronger than Zou Hu. If he reached Wucheng in time, he could definitely kill Chen Sanshi.
With that, he turned and mounted his sword, streaking across the sky toward Wucheng.
"Stop him!" Wang Jun shouted, leaping to follow.
But Han Xiang's command echoed through the air—"Hold them back!"
Immediately, four or five mid-to-late-stage Qi Refining cultivators surged forward, surrounding Wang Jun.
Even though their realms were lower, numbers mattered. Against so many at once, Wang Jun couldn't break free.
"Junior Brother, you can't go!"
"Why do you care whether that Chen fellow lives or dies?!"
From a distance, Qu Yuanxiang, still locked in combat with Zhu Gui, shouted angrily, "If you leave, they'll all turn on me!"
Wang Jun's expression darkened.
The enemy had more cultivators. If he left, Qu Yuanxiang would be overwhelmed—and Gengyang Prefecture would surely fall.
And then there was Chen Sanshi's order before departing: Hold the city at all costs.
After a moment's thought, Wang Jun gritted his teeth and stayed.
As for Wucheng—he could only trust Chen Sanshi to handle it.
Wucheng.
Yellow sand filled the skies. The earth trembled violently.
Under the power of the Heaven and Earth Soil River Earth Dragon Formation, the Hongze Battalion's 22,000 soldiers advanced to the very base of the walls.
Siege wagons, battering rams, shielded chariots, tower ladders—one after another crashed forward.
Each machine cleared the path for the men behind.
Wei Xuan, Song Guizhi, and others scaled the walls, leaping across the battlements to clash with Mo Xuepeng and the Western Qi defenders. Behind them, soldiers stormed up the ladders and war chariots.
A brutal siege had begun.
Chaos reigned across the battlefield.
Both commanders were locked in a battle of life and death.
Golden light blazed.
True Force surged.
A single punch detonated with divine might—its shockwave bright enough to light the sky.
Zou Hu's fist slammed down once more, blasting the White Robe back a full hundred steps. Before Chen Sanshi could even regain his footing, Zou Hu was already charging after him, his right fist raised high, true force gathering like a storm.
"Whoosh—"
Chen Sanshi's legs sank into the stone wall behind him as his body skidded backward, carving a deep trench through the stone. In his hands was no longer the Dragon Gall Silver Spear, but a seven-foot-long Black Serpent Bow. Four arrows were nocked upon its string, each one pulsing with condensed true qi.
Only when his enemy closed to the final ten steps did he release his grip.
The bowstring sang.
Four arrows shot forth together, hissing through the air. Poison and killing intent intertwined as, under the surge of true qi, they transformed into incarnations of the Four Divine Beasts.
The White Tiger charged in front, its killing intent surging to the heavens!
Zou Hu didn't flinch. His right fist smashed down, shattering the White Tiger apart. His left hand then reached forward, seizing and crushing the incoming Vermilion Bird into fragments. The Heavenly Vajra Rings on his wrists flared like thunder, striking out like cannons—he hurled them forward, slamming into the Azure Dragon and scattering it into mist. Finally, he drew the rings back, crossing his arms as golden and violet light blazed forth, deflecting the crushing force of the Black Tortoise.
Each of Zou Hu's wrists bore five Vajra Rings, a total of ten in all—true martial weapons exclusive to True Force Realm warriors. They could attack or defend and even partially offset the martial path's weakness in long-range combat.
With such weapons and his own cultivation, Chen Sanshi's strange arrows only slowed Zou Hu's advance slightly. They inflicted no real harm.
But it wasn't over yet.
A barrage of sword qi burst forth next, relentless as a rainstorm, blanketing the sky.
Sword Qi Technique—Sword Storage: 20!
Zou Hu's eyes narrowed slightly in surprise. His arms blurred, leaving afterimages as he swung, the Vajra Rings intercepting every streak of sword light with sharp metallic clangs.
"So, you're a spell cultivator too?" he shouted with a sneer. "Body and spell dual cultivation—it's costly and rare. You're quite the oddity!"
Still, something about the white-robed man's spell didn't add up.
The sword qi had only the power of early-stage Qi Refining, yet he had unleashed twenty at once—impossible for an ordinary cultivator.
Before he could dwell on it, another fireball hurtled toward him.
Zou Hu, only three to five steps away, didn't even stop. His fist, wreathed in true force, smashed through the Flame Manipulation Art's blazing sphere, dispersing it into sparks.
But behind that fireball—came a flaming arrow.
Zou Hu intended to strike it down as before. Yet at the last moment, his martial instincts screamed a warning—the flame was different.
He leapt back instantly, his Vajra Rings spinning into the air while his foot stomped into the wall, leaving a deep crater. With an almost unnatural twist, he flipped backward, avoiding the projectile.
"Thud!"
The Vajra Rings collided with the arrow midair, knocking it to the ground before returning to his arm.
As it hit the dirt, the arrowhead erupted in red flame. In just a few breaths, the arrow and shaft burned to ash.
That wasn't mundane iron—it was a mystic weapon-grade arrow!
Zou Hu's gaze darkened. Even his Vajra Rings, forged from true force weaponry above mid-grade mystic quality, were slightly deformed from that brief contact.
If they'd been of lesser make, they would have melted entirely.
'What kind of fire is this? Alchemy flame? No… hotter than that…'
His eyes narrowed. 'This brat's tricky!'
But now the White Robe's tricks were spent.
Having tested every one of his opponent's cards, Zou Hu's confidence surged. He waved off the cultivators rushing to assist. "Stand back! I don't need help. I'll deal with him myself!"
Han Xiang had warned him—this man's greatest weapon wasn't his skill, but his freakish resilience. The longer the fight, the stronger he grew. In the Battle of the Wasteland, that truth had already been proven.
To defeat him, numbers weren't the key—speed was. A single duel, ended swiftly.
Zou Hu took a steady step forward, his expression grim. "Come on, boy. Whatever you've got left—use it all!"
To his surprise, the white-robed man didn't draw his bow again. He didn't summon spells, fire, or even flying swords.
Instead, he stowed everything—the weapons, the talismans, even the blade at his waist—into his storage ring.
Then, gripping only his silver spear, he assumed the opening stance of a spear art.
A duel of martial strength.
"Good!"
Zou Hu's eyes lit up. His fists clashed together with a resounding clang as the ten Vajra Rings connected, forming a shimmering golden chain that gleamed like a whip. Purple energy coiled around the links, radiating with divine might.
"Then let me see," he said coldly, "if the successor of the Eastern Divine Continent's greatest spear art—the one that made the Ancestor of Qingxuan strike in person—truly deserves his name!"
"Metal Form—!"
Before the final word left his mouth, Zou Hu launched forward.
The Metal Breathing Method roared to life, transforming every vein in his body as spiritual qi and true qi merged into pure true force. The killing intent surrounding him grew so fierce that the air itself began to warp. The Vajra Rings thundered like war drums as golden lightning tore downward from above, infused with every trace of blade and sword energy in the air.
This strike could crush mountains.
At a distance of ten steps, Chen Sanshi did not retreat.
The Fire Breathing Method, though not yet perfected, began to circulate. True qi surged through his meridians, flowing into the Dragon Gall Silver Spear.
Seven of his Eight Divine Vistas were already active. Only the final one remained unopened—like a dragon missing its eye, unable to truly awaken.
He thrust his spear.
Spear and golden force collided.
The explosion tore through the walls.
At the edge of the battlement, Chen Sanshi and the crumbling stone wall crashed down together. His Vajra Body rang like struck bronze, the reverberations echoing like a temple bell. But mid-fall, he jammed his hand into the fractured wall, using the force to spring back upward.
He soared once more to the wall's height, meeting the next wave of Vajra Rings head-on.
Silver dragon and golden light clashed again and again.
The clear clang of metal against metal, the roar of collapsing walls, the slicing of blades through armor and flesh, the dying screams of soldiers—all merged into one endless symphony of carnage.
Beneath it all, the Heaven and Earth Soil River Earth Dragon Formation continued its work. The entire city quaked as the earth dragon's power surged through the battlefield.
The Hongze Battalion's 22,000 soldiers fought like possessed men, drenched in blood, killing without rest beneath the trembling heavens.
"Clang! Clang! Clang—"
After several fierce exchanges, Zou Hu held the clear advantage. His suppression over the white-robed man was absolute. Each punch sent waves of true force crashing down, and he could feel the mounting internal injuries on his opponent. Yet even wounded, Chen Sanshi didn't back off—he didn't even think about defending. Every gap, every breath, every inch of space, he used to counterattack like a mad dog snapping at its prey.
It was reckless. It was suicidal.
But it made sense.
The Sheng Dynasty's grain supplies were already exhausted. Chen Sanshi's claim of stepping into the True Force Realm had been just a bluff. If he couldn't turn the tide now, he'd die anyway.
So this was truly a fight to the death.
Zou Hu gritted his teeth and sneered.
"Pity—you really are going to die here!"
Heaven's Wrath Sealing Demon Fist!
"Buzz—"
True force erupted.
The Heavenly Vajra Rings scattered from his wrists, orbiting him like ten blazing suns. Each time his fists struck, the rings followed, hammering down in perfect rhythm. The killing intent of the Metal Element condensed into reality—Zou Hu's technique was like a martial equivalent of a Heavenly Tome formation, drawing upon the world's own energy.
This punch could shatter mountains, split seas, flatten cities, and crush heavens.
Every strike drove the white-robed man and his silver spear backward through the storm and rubble. Each blow sent him sliding several zhang across the ground. Blood welled at the corner of his mouth, and though his spear blocked the strikes perfectly, his inner injuries were already severe.
"Chen Brother!"
From not far away, Wei Xuan swung his enormous blade, decapitating a Western Qi martial master in one slash. He tried to rush to help, but two enemy cultivators immediately cut off his path.
Song Guizhi, Wang Zhi, and the others were all in the same desperate situation—locked in their own battles, unable to break through.
"Boom!"
Another punch from Zou Hu landed, his Vajra Rings slamming down together in a single full-force strike. The shockwave tore through the air, shaking the city walls to the core. The gates of Wucheng groaned under the pressure—cracked, splintered, on the verge of collapse.
Zou Hu's expression darkened with disbelief.
"You're still not dead?!"
The white-robed man stood there, blood on his lips, his silver spear held steady.
He should have collapsed long ago.
Instead, his eyes were sharper than ever. The longer he fought, the more ferocious his aura became. Besides the faint blood trace on his mouth, there was no other sign of injury—as if every wound had been sealed inside him, locked away through sheer willpower.
And worse—Zou Hu could feel that his Sealing Demon Fist was being read. Every attack, every rhythm, every shift of weight—Chen Sanshi predicted it all.
The more Zou Hu fought, the more uneasy he became.
It wasn't just the strange vitality of the white-robed man—it was his calm.
Yes, calm.
From the start, Zou Hu had been crushing him by sheer difference in realm. Even a prodigy shouldn't have been able to keep up this long. And yet this man—
He didn't show panic. He didn't show pain. He didn't even show doubt.
There was only that calm gaze, watching him—not like looking at an enemy, but like looking at a corpse.
'He still has something hidden,' Zou Hu thought, a chill crawling up his spine.
His plan for a quick victory was falling apart. Anxiety gnawed at him. He knew if this dragged on, the man before him would only become more dangerous. He steeled himself—if he wanted to win, he'd have to pay a heavy price.
But before he could act—
The heavens split open.
A streak of sword light tore through the sky.
Han Xiang arrived.
"Daoist Han?!"
Zou Hu's face lit up with relief. He shouted, "This one's a monster! Daoist, help me strike him down!"
From above, Han Xiang hovered in midair, robes billowing, surveying the battlefield below. He took in the sight of the Hongze Battalion, their formation still steady even in the chaos of siege.
The storm of sand and dust fused faintly with the Earth Dragon Formation, pulling the terrain and heavens into resonance—an ingenious use of a Heavenly Tome Formation.
'He really used it here…' Han Xiang thought grimly.
What shocked him most, though, was that this mortal-realm warrior was actually fighting evenly against a True Force Realm cultivator.
Had he come a cup of tea later, the man in white might have actually done it—killed across realms and taken Wucheng.
Fortunately, it wasn't too late.
The white robe…
Still too reckless.
A general who gambles with danger is destined for ruin. Someday, he will die without even a grave.
"Buzz—"
As Han Xiang flew, he began forming seals. Layers of talismans turned into streams of light that merged into his flashing sword. Each rune on the blade responded to the spell, and the sword's brilliance grew brighter and sharper by the moment.
He didn't hold back.
This was an all-out strike.
If this man truly grew stronger the longer he fought, then he couldn't be given another chance to recover. He was still Mortal Shedding Realm, and he was injured. Together, he and Zou Hu could end this here.
"Daoist Zou—move!" Han Xiang shouted, his voice cold and steady as his mana surged into the sword.
Zou Hu didn't need to be told twice. He charged forward, his right fist wrapped in radiant gold and violet, the Vajra Rings blazing like a miniature sun.
Neither man wasted words.
They only had one thought—
Kill the white robe before he could rise again.
"Damn bastards!" Chen Sanshi roared.
Seeing that, Wang Zhi, who was still fighting a mid-stage Qi Refining cultivator, suddenly roared. He took a blade to the shoulder, trading injury for injury, then split his opponent clean in half with a single strike. Blood sprayed across his face as he stepped on Zhu Tong's shoulder and leapt skyward, true qi surging in layers. His massive saber trembled violently as he tried to block the incoming War Immortal of Fallen Leaf Valley.
But Han Xiang's eyes held only one target—the white robe. He had no time for distractions.
His right hand continued to charge his flying sword with power, while his left hand flicked out a small black chess piece.
Barely the size of a fingertip, it grew midair until it was as huge as a mountain, crashing down with earth-shattering force.
Wang Zhi spat blood and was thrown back into the chaos of the battlefield.
That blow ended all chances of interference.
No one remained to stop the two masters' combined assault.
Han Xiang's power reached its peak.
He floated high above Wucheng, his sword gleaming like a silver galaxy descending from the heavens.
With one slash, he ripped open the storm of sand and dust covering the city—splitting the skies themselves!
Below, Zou Hu's Sealing Demon Fist came crashing down, shaking the earth.
Heaven-splitting. Earth-cracking.
Front and back.
Both strikes landed almost at the same instant—right on the white-robed man standing on the crumbling wall.
"Rumble!"
True force and spell power collided, surging into one another. With the Heaven and Earth Soil River Earth Dragon Formation already half-destroyed, the weakened city wall couldn't take it anymore.
Centered on the white-robed figure, the wall collapsed with a deafening explosion.
At the edge of the newly formed chasm, massive blocks of stone tumbled loose, then more followed, falling in an unstoppable cascade.
Countless stones and bricks plummeted from above, the crashing sounds like rolling thunder. The ground trembled under the impact, the earth itself groaning. Dust and gravel filled the air, shards of stone flying in every direction. The wall looked like it had been torn apart by some god's furious hand—reduced to ruin in mere moments.
The entire northern wall was gone.
Thousands of soldiers fell with it—some smashed to death instantly, others crushed beneath boulders until nothing was left but pulp.
The once-deafening battlefield fell eerily silent.
"Huuh—"
Amid the ruins, Zou Hu stood on the shattered edge, the glow of his Heavenly Vajra Rings dimming. He exhaled a long, heavy breath, staring down into the rising dust below.
It was finally over.
He'd been through countless battles, seen rivers of blood, but never had he faced an opponent so stubborn—someone a whole realm lower who could make him fight this hard.
"White Robe is dead!"
Zou Hu's voice boomed like thunder across the battlefield. "Lay down your arms! Surrender now, and perhaps you'll live to see tomorrow!"
"Commander?!"
"General?!"
The soldiers of Hongze Battalion stared in shock.
But instead of despair, their killing intent surged even higher.
"Ahhh!"
"Fuck your ancestors!"
"Brothers! Fight them to the death!"
The entire formation roared as one.
The Hongze Battalion charged—not with fear, but with rage. They held their weapons tight, maintaining formation as they hurled themselves toward the True Force warriors like men possessed.
Sun Buqi, Yu Ji, Yu Lie, Chu Shixiong, Xia Cong—
Not one of them—
Took a single step back.
"What the hell?!"
Zou Hu's eyes widened.
In war, when a general dies, the army collapses. That's how it always worked.
So what was this?
A force that didn't retreat, didn't waver, even after their leader fell?
These were mortals!
Mortals shouldn't have this kind of willpower!
"Good!"
Zou Hu barked out a short laugh, the shock in his eyes turning to killing intent.
The white robe was dead.
No more threat remained.
Now it was just slaughter.
"Daoist Zou! Quick—he's not dead yet!"
Han Xiang's sharp voice cut through the chaos.
In truth, from the wall's collapse to now, only a few breaths had passed.
He had never once dropped his guard. His flying sword pulsed with light again—he was already ready to strike.
"Not dead?!" Zou Hu's head jerked down.
Through the settling dust, a faint silhouette appeared—one knee on the ground.
Who else could it be but Chen Sanshi?
He pushed himself up slowly, gripping the Dragon Gall Silver Spear. His white robes snapped in the wind, dust swirling around him, concealing his expression.
Only a rising power could be felt—immense, boundless, impossible to ignore.
He spoke, his voice echoing like thunder from the heavens themselves.
"Fire—"
"Form!!"
Fire Form!
Within the choking haze of dust and stone, his eyes and all seven orifices suddenly burst into flame. The blinding fire twisted and danced, spilling across his skin, then along his arms, racing down the length of his silver spear until it blazed like a dragon of pure flame.
In that instant, he looked divine—and demonic all at once.
A god of fire descending to the mortal realm.
A demon awakened from the abyss.
He had broken through—
True Force Realm!
Dragon Scripture—Fire Form!